


we're hollow (like the bottles that we drain)

by loudwheezes (arrodete)



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: 2k+ words of the author tryna be poetic, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Band Fic, Cigarettes, Drinking, Feelings Realization, Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Late Night Conversations, Love Confessions, M/M, No Sex, No Sexual Content, Not really though, Ryan Bergara Loves Shane Madej, Shane Madej Loves Ryan Bergara, Smoking, Stars, Symbolism, also only shane and ryan are there, no band stuff happening though?, the other characters are just mentioned and/or make cameos, theres a lot of sappy internal monologues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-07-27 13:59:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16220522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrodete/pseuds/loudwheezes
Summary: “Buddy,” Shane mutters to himself, quietly, and Ryan almost misses it. “Y’know, sometimes, I wish I could call you love.”Ryan blinks. “What?”Shane pours himself a glass of the alcohol. “Love, instead of buddy.”-Or; Ryan and Shane - under bright stage lights and brilliant starlight.





	we're hollow (like the bottles that we drain)

**Author's Note:**

> whats up yo im back at it again with rpf for buzzfeed man, because im a sucker for dreaming up romantic relationships between any two people who sit next to each other within a five meter radius (and i mean, ryan and shane have been doing that for four seasons already, so my head will definitely start writing up these fics) i've had this thing in my notes for like, months, after reading some fics from my fave authors in this fandom and i got randomly inspired to write yknow
> 
> also, i'm aware that i went ham in the tags up there. just trying to give ya'll a taste if you know what i mean (i don't know what i mean, yes, i'm a mess). i genuinely hope that you enjoy this, though!
> 
> anyway welcome to (technically, the first fic ive ever written, but not finished) my first fic yieeee idk why i decided to write about shane and ryan in a Rock Band (im kidding, i definitely know why. listening to shane sing coming out of my shell? tHOSe VoCALS MAN), and idk why i decided to write a rock band au without the rocking (esp since i personally Lowkey dislike rock band aus), but here it is!! and shane, ryan, if any of you guys are reading this, i have No Clue as to why you're doing this, but please exit the tab. if you know shane and ryan, i suggest you do the same 
> 
> alright yes yes you may read now
> 
> (of course, thank you to atasha for being my beta and for being lovely in general ü)

He leans against the balcony, cigarette in hand. It’s cold tonight, and quiet. He looks down below, at the faint orange glow of street lights.

 

It’s been a long day.

 

They were on tour, moving around the country and performing for fans. Ryan is their manager - he doesn’t perform, but he works. He works hard.

 

He spent the day counting tickets and checking stage lights, watching the band rehearse and fixing their audio equipment. They’re famous now, so they’ve hired various teams of people for those type of tasks, but Ryan likes working. He likes doing everything he can to make sure that the fans get everything they can offer.

 

The Risky Fixin’s weren’t much of a success at first, since no one wants to listen to a rock band singing undecipherable lyrics. They mostly did gigs at bars and restaurants, until a scout heard them play. Suddenly, they were signing a contract and were releasing hit after hit to the mainstream media, and everyone seemed to love it, though rock still isn’t very popular.

 

Ryan loved it, he loved the bright lights and the growing fanbase. He loved the adrenaline he got working, watching the band perform, watching the fans cheer. Their first studio album, _the Hotdaga_ , was a major success, and he couldn’t be happier.

 

He loved watching _Shane_ , too. Shane, who didn’t want fame, Shane, who just wanted to write, and sing, and play for the fans. Shane was the lead singer of the band, and he played the guitar too. Shane made the band one day, with some of their other friends, not knowing that they would become what they are now.

 

Shane was also Ryan’s best friend. The lines between them, separating friendship and more, have been blurred for a long time, but Ryan doesn’t think about it much. He doesn’t like change a lot. He didn’t want to change anything that had to do with Shane.

 

He might want more, but that doesn’t matter. The band always comes first. The music.

 

Their performance today was exhilarating, and exhausting. After that, they headed out to get some drinks at an expensive bar. They’re famous now, so they have the money to do things they usually wouldn’t, to go to bars with unnecessarily high entrance fees and ridiculously overpriced drinks. The company doesn’t want them mingling with the public much, as being insanely famous does come with its cons. There have been instances of the paparazzi following the band members around, especially now that two of their members, Andrew and Steven, have come out to the public as boyfriends. They’re extra careful now, even if they practically begged the company to let them go around without bodyguards,

 

He and Shane got an Uber back to the hotel, like they always did, after a performance. They tell Sara, their keyboardist and their back-up singer, that they’ll be heading out. They don’t have to make a story up, they always leave early.

 

He doesn’t remember much after that, but they end up how they always do, in between the sheets of their king-sized bed, in the hotel room they share. It’s more of a suite, and Ryan doesn’t like it as much as the tiny rooms the company used to give them, because it’s too _big_ , too _wide_. He feels small in comparison, and in the huge bed, Shane seems to be miles away. They end up lying there for hours, maybe falling asleep, and it’s comfortable.

 

He doesn’t bother redressing afterwards. He wraps a sheet around himself and lights a cigarette, before walking to the balcony. He’s tired, and exposed, but that doesn’t really matter. They’re famous now, so they’ve got the penthouse suite on the highest floor of the five-star hotel. There’s no one to see him up here.

 

He doesn’t bother closing the glass doors behind him. It’s windy in New York today, but he likes it. He can make out the skyline, softly illuminated by the lights from various buildings, open 24/7. Their hotel is far from any busy roads, but he can still hear soft hum of faraway traffic, speeding by.

 

He can’t see the stars, hidden behind clouds and pollution. He hasn’t seen the stars since the road trip he and Shane took to Illinois, to visit Shane’s parents, before the tour.

 

Behind him, he hears Shane get up from the bed. He takes a drag from the cigarette.

 

“Aren’t you cold, buddy?” Shane asks, and it sounds weird. He’s soft, like he always is, after performing. It’s a stark contrast from his voice onstage. Ryan doesn’t mind, he likes Shane like this, soft. “Someone might see you.”

 

He turns around, letting his back hit the railing, taking a drag from his cigarette before replying. “We’re too high up. No one’s around.”

 

He watches Shane put on a shirt and his glasses, Ryan’s shirt, and make his way to the bar of their room, before turning on the bar light, and dimming it down. They’re famous now, so they get to have big rooms with bars and jacuzzis, with rooftop pools and refrigerators stocked with complimentary bottles of alcohol.

 

Shane walks around the bar and pulls out a bottle of whisky, as well as a glass. _He started drinking too much_ , Ryan finds himself thinking. He wants to slap himself, because he himself started smoking too much.

 

“ _Buddy_ ,” Shane mutters to himself, quietly, and Ryan almost misses it. “Y’know, sometimes, I wish I could call you love.”

 

Ryan blinks. “What?”

 

Shane pours himself a glass of the alcohol. “ _Love_ , instead of buddy.”

 

He watches Shane drink. He’s not looking at Ryan, he’s looking at the bar countertop, and Ryan suddenly wishes he closed the door when he went outside. He’s confused, _and Shane’s just drinking_. 

 

“You might wanna stop drinking there, big guy. We’ve got a flight to catch in the morning.” It’s true. They’re famous now, so they move city to city.

 

“Forget what I said,” Shane says, quieter than before. “All the time, is what I mean. Not just sometimes, I want to call you that all the time.”

 

The impact of the words hit him, and he nearly drops the cigarette. He’s breathless, all of a sudden. 

 

Shane is looking at his stupid drink, instead of at Ryan, and Ryan just wants to see his eyes. 

 

“All the time?” he ends up saying. The words feel intrusive, like he’s speaking too loud. Shane stands a few yards away from him, and it feels like he’s too far, like he’s miles away, back in Illinois under a canopy of countless stars. He also feels too near, like Ryan could breathe in and he’d be _there_ , and Ryan would be breathing him in, and-

 

“Yeah, Ry.” A pause. “I’ve wanted to, for years now.”

 

It’s overwhelming, all of it. The darkness and the silence, and the words. In the dim, orange bar light, Shane looks impossibly soft, and it makes Ryan’s chest physically _ache_ , and he’s so far gone. His - no, _Ryan’s_ \- shirt is wrinkled in several places, and his hair is all messed up from Ryan’s hands a few hours ago, tugging and pulling and running through. His glasses are crooked on his nose, and he’s still not looking at Ryan, and it hurts. The light makes him look so fucking beautiful, and Ryan is so in love with him.

 

_He’s in love with him._

 

Yeah, that’s it. He’s in love with Shane. It doesn’t hit him hard - maybe because he’s been in love with Shane since they first met, or because it’s so natural to be in love with him, to be with him, beside him. To be Ryan and Shane, Shane and Ryan, to be them - a single unit, functioning as a whole.

 

He’s so overwhelmed and he just wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss Shane, like he did months ago, pressing him against the kitchen wall in his apartment in Los Angeles. He wants to kiss Shane, like the first time he did, years ago, in a dimly lit bar after Shane’s first gig, because he was so damn proud. He wants to kiss Shane like he did, just a few hours ago, against the pillows and the mattress of their king-sized bed. 

 

But they’ve kissed before. They’ve done it on backseats of cars, on couches with movies playing on the television in front of them, against the walls of showers and in bathtubs, on dance floors of busy clubs with too much people, on tables with drafts of lyrics written on papers strewn about. He remembers kissing Shane on the front porch of Shane’s parents’ house in Illinois, when Shane’s parents have gone to bed, and all the lights in the house were shut. He remembers talking hushed sentences in between kisses, his eyes closed to the brilliance of the stars above. He remembers holding onto Shane’s collar for dear life, and remembers feeling _something_ , a new emotion he discovered. He remembers his brain, thinking stupidly, that he’d become famous for exploring a new feeling, and he remembers getting high on Shane’s laugh when he tells him so. They’ve kissed before, and they’ve touched thousands of times. What they haven’t done before, though, is talk about them, without the lights and the bass blaring through the speakers.

 

Ryan knows what he has to do.

 

Tonight’s been the longest night in Ryan’s life, but he feels _awake_. He walks into the room, closing the glass doors behind him as he goes. He walks to Shane, and sits on the bar stool, across from the man he is in love with.

 

Shane is looking at him now, _finally_ , and Ryan’s fine.

 

“What if I wanted you to?” It’s loud, in such a quiet room. He watches Shane’s eyes widen slightly, and Ryan’s so in love with him that he can’t breathe.

 

“You do?” Shane asks, uncertainty running through his voice, and it’s stupid. It’s a stupid question.

 

“Of course I do, big guy,” he says, quietly. Like he’s about to break something fragile. “As long as I get to call you that too.”

 

“Of course you can,” Shane say, small smile on his face.

 

“What are you waiting for, then?”

 

As if he pulled a trigger, Shane sets his glass down the sink behind him. He takes Ryan’s cigarette and throws it into the ashtray by the bar. Ryan watches him walk around the counter, walk to him. He feels exposed, and it’s understandable, he’s only got a sheet on, after all. 

 

Shane brings a hand to his cheek, touching him, gently, tenderly. There’s a warmth in his chest that expands and Ryan’s warm all over. Shane holds him as if he was fragile, like he was made of glass.

 

Oh, yes, they’ve kissed before. They’ve kissed in backstage rooms and against car doors. They’ve kissed on kitchen counters and on beds of expensive material. They’ve never kissed like this, though. Slowly, without the urgency they always had. After all, they were Ryan and Shane, Shane and Ryan. They were a firecracker, bright and bold. An explosion of color and brilliance, big and stunning and loud. Now, they were glass. Fragile, beautiful, steady. Ryan likes that a lot. _Steady._

 

They kiss, and it’s soft. It’s a slow, wonderful thing, and Ryan wants to melt. Shane is holding his cheeks now, he’s pulled Ryan close, and Ryan is holding onto his shirt for dear life. He tiptoes, because God knows it’d never work out if he didn’t, and Shane hands reach down to grab his thighs, and Shane pulls him impossibly closer. He wraps his legs around Shane’s waist, and- God, he’s going crazy. Shane is kissing him. Shane _loves_ him.

 

He presses their lips closer, as close as he can. When they pull back for air, they’re gasping, and Ryan laughs, remembering the porch in Illinois. Ryan places his mouth on the base of Shane’s neck, and Shane makes this _sound_ , at the back of his throat, and Ryan’s gone crazy.

 

They end up on the bed, once again. The clothes they may have had on have been discarded once more. Ryan is pressing Shane down on the mattress, kissing his neck, and he’s so elated that he thinks he’d give anything up for this. _I love you_ , he whispers into Shane’s skin. He hears it said back, and it lingers in the air around them, it sticks to his skin, and it’s ingrained in his head like a mantra, over and over again.

 

They kiss for hours, until daylight streams from the glass doors of the balcony.

 

-

 

When Ryan wakes up, Shane’s arm is around his bare chest. Suddenly, anxiety spreads through his chest. He can’t help thinking that maybe something will break between them, or maybe something already did, while he was sleeping, unconscious.

 

He doesn’t know what that something is.

 

His fear dissipates when Shane stirs beside him, and Ryan’s breath halts. Shane’s face, eyes closed, looks unbelievably soft in the sunlight. Ryan feels his heart melt, though he won’t admit it out loud. Shane opens an eye, turning his head towards Ryan, and the world around them stops. 

 

“Hey stranger.” Shane’s smile is wide, and Ryan is wheezing.

 

It’s maybe the dumbest thing that’s come out of Shane’s mouth, but Ryan is so happy, he couldn’t care less. He kisses Shane, in the softest way he can, but they can’t even kiss properly, with the wide smiles on their faces.

 

Suddenly, there’s banging on the door. The world continues spinning. They abruptly pull apart, before looking at each other, laughing. 

 

“Open it, big guy,” Ryan says. He can’t stop smiling at Shane’s stupid face, on his stupidly big head.

 

“Why me?” Shane protests.

 

“You said it yourself. You love me.” The words come out suddenly. Before he can panic, Shane smirks, and he forgets everything he’s said.

 

“You’re the boss, _love_.”

 

Shane huffs out a breath, and pulls on a hoodie - _Ryan’s hoodie_ \- from an opened suitcase on the floor, while Ryan hides under the covers. The hoodie is, thankfully, large enough that nobody can see anything inappropriate, and Shane goes to open the door. It turns out to be TJ, who tells them to get ready to go, before looking at them with a knowing expression. He rolls his eyes at the duo, before leaving them to get showered and changed. Ryan remembers the thousands of laughs and memories and kisses. His thoughts flash back to coffee breakfasts and gigs at bars. They may be famous now, but they’re still Ryan and Shane.

 

He wouldn’t change that for the world.

 

-

 

**END**

 

Later that evening, they sit first class on a plane, next to each other. Ryan scrolls through his camera roll, and his _boyfriend_ has his laptop out and earbuds in, listening to a song he’s been working on.

 

He feels a tap on his shoulder. Shane’s holding out an earbud for him. “Hey babe, wanna hear this next verse?”

 

He nods, taking the earbud, and putting it on. “Go ahead. Mind you, though, I _will_ judge you.”

 

Shane looks at him, feigning hurt, his hand over his heart. “But I wrote that song for you!”

 

He raises his eyebrows. “What’s it called?”

 

Shane smirks. “Plupple Honeymoon.”

 

(Ryan loves his boyfriend to the moon and back. He would do anything for Shane, he’d even watch three straight seasons of _Mind of Mencia_ if Shane asked him to. However, strange as it may seem, Ryan would not listen to any of the band’s songs on his own accord. Sure, the Risky Fixin’s were critically acclaimed, and he was the band’s manager, for Christ’s sake, but Ryan would never be caught with _the Hotdaga_ saved on his Spotify, and he’d never buy it on iTunes.)

**Author's Note:**

> hey dude, dudette, idk ?? thanks for reading this fic that is the product of my Labor and every single buzzfeed video featuring shane and ryan :)) you the real MVP man 
> 
> pls leave me comments down below (especially since my writing has a long way to go, and i really want to improve), and if you feel like the rating should go above teen and up audiences, please say so! 
> 
> if you wanna, pls hmu on tumblr: [loud-wheezes](https://loud-wheezes.tumblr.com/)
> 
> title from 400 lux by lorde


End file.
